Treason
by Mayofish
Summary: "This," he taps her third eye, "does not need to define you." Based on a theory that Yda is a pure-blood Garlean. Slight spoilers for 3.1: As Goes Light, So Goes Darkness.


The lines we cross in search of change  
But all they see is treason

\- Behind Closed Doors by Rise Against

Yda and Papalymo exchange no words as their heavy footfalls echo around the stone walls of the Ul'dah markets. They both toss their linkpearls away and their hands brush as they run. The sound of their pursuers are close behind. They just know they have to run, they have to escape — for Eorzea. They don't look back, but they meet each others' eyes. They understand. Soon, there is nothing but sand under their feet and dust in their lungs. They don't stop even when their chests burn and their eyes sting. It is cold and dark but finally, when Ul'dah is nothing but a tiny star in the distance behind them, they allow themselves to pause.

At first, there is no sound but their own panting. Yda is hunched over, her hands on her knees and Papalymo is using his staff to hold himself up. Somewhere along the way they both lost their aether goggles and Papalymo's monocle is cracked. He attempts to take it off to clean it before giving a frustrated sigh and stuffing it into his pocket. They exchange a water bottle between the two of them; both sucking it down while trying to conserve what they had. Yda's bandanna is disheveled and strands of her blonde hair stick out from under it. Her mask is cracked and she pushes it up to sit on the top of her head while she tries to wipe and the sweat and grime from her face.

"Where to now?" Papalymo asks finally. His breathing has calmed and he hooks the water canteen back to his belt.

Yda takes in a deep breath and straightens. Her eyes are focused straight ahead, there is determination in them. They can't go back and they don't know how long it will be before everything calms down — if it calms down at all. Yda decides there are other things that must be done while they wait.

"I say we go home, Papalymo."

Dancing in the distance is the light they know as Little Ala Mhigo.

* * *

And it's a story that Yda doesn't let define her — she is not her past nor her birthplace. Yda is a Archon and she would give her life for Eorzea. It's a story told on a need to know basis and only the closest of the Scions know. But is is a story that cannot stay hidden forever.

Especially not know.

Yda and Papalymo make their way to Little Ala Mhigo and it's a homecoming but it's also a burden. Their heads are held high despite their heavy hearts. They are leaving — yet they are returning. The Ala Mhigans avert their eyes, some bow their heads, some salute. Yda wastes no time taking control. Papalymo is proud but Papalymo also knows they can't stay here forever. They can't do this forever.

Yda wastes no time planing to take Ala Mhigo back. She is someone different with sand under her boots. Maybe she wants to prove herself; maybe she wants forgiveness.

* * *

Before Ala Mhigo fell, Papalymo is there. It is like his second home and the tattoo on his neck is fresh and shiny. The Circle of Knowing is newer to Eorzea and he is tasked with keeping an eye on Garlean Empire. He takes his tasks very seriously. Ala Mhigo is busy and unchanging; he studies magic and prays to Rhalgr. There is a comfort in the simplistic nature of the city-state. He enjoys the sand and the sun.

But Papalymo never quiet gets used to their favor of war over knowledge. It sits ill with him but he sticks to learning the teachings of Rhalgr and soon he becomes a well known protector of Ala Mhigo. He was strong in magic the way the highlanders were strong in muscle. He fights side-by-side their warriors and helps with economic and strategy studies.

Then, one day, a new face appears. She holds herself with an arrogance and grace that fits in well with the natives but something is off. She hides her face but strands of blonde hair escape confinement. Papalymo decides to keep a close eye on her. She like to fight he learns quickly and she frequently beats whole taverns in arm-wrestling contests. She becomes instantly popular among the men. But she shows more interest in him.

"Those marks on your neck. I haven't seen anything like them before," her voice is smooth and she leans against the counter he is sitting at. She takes in her surroundings and then glances back at him, "Not very many Lalafell here."

"Not many midlanders either," they meet each others' gaze steadily. She sets an angry aflame in his gut. She is infuriating and hotheaded. Even then, she is Yda, if only partly.

Papalymo's mouth is dry so he orders a drink — for him and her. He learns her name and she travels looking for challenges. She won't say much else but she seems naive. She tells wild tales of all the fights she's been in. She offers to spar with him if he wants. The ale loosens his lips and he tells her that he's an Archon. He is here to protect Eorzea. He didn't notice she hadn't touched her drink.

"What a noble goal," she smiles at him but her voice is all wrong _(it's not her, it's not her, it's not—)_ and he swears never to drink again.

* * *

By the end of the week, Papalymo is right for not trusting Yda. He's up late when he finds her sneaking around. He watches her from the shadows. She's taking notes, seemingly on the infrastructure of some of the most prominent buildings. Her movements are solid — stealthy and every so often she would tap or punch a support beam or wall. Yda looks down at her notes and lets her shoulders slump. She sighs. Papalymo draws his staff.

"Why are you really here then?" He asks. She spins to face him, hands on the weapons at her hips. Her notes scatter to the ground. He snatches one up.

They're plans on where to drop bombs for an airstrike.

He looks up at her and she eases into a fighting pose. "Don't make me fight you," she whispers.

"On the contrary, I would like to see how you fight."

She smiles and her fists are raised. She dives at him. Papalymo leaps back; the spikes on her weapons snag his robes. He fires a ball of ice at her feet. Yda dances around it, spinning around and kicking his feet out from under him. He has never seen a pugilist so graceful. He rolls away from her before getting back to his feet. She is already almost on him again. He shoots more ice. This time it catches and her foot is quickly frozen to the ground. She rears her hand back to punch the ice shackle on her ankle. Papalymo wastes no time and a fire ball grazes her face. She snarls — spits at him. He freezes her other foot and stalks up to her. He grabs her face and jerks it up. He tugs her bandanna and visor from her head. He drops them to the ground. The sound echoes around them. They both hold their breath.

Her hair is golden blonde and her eyes are blue like aether. But on her forehead is exactly the answer he wanted.

"You're Garlean."

She headbutts him in the face and he stumbles back, spitting blood. He glares at her but she still can't move even as she strains. He wipes his blood lip on the back of his hand and approaches her again, staff drawn. He stays out of range.

"I respect what you're doing, Papalymo — what the Circle of Knowing is doing. But I have responsibilities too."

* * *

Papalymo doesn't want to scare the Ala Mhigans and he also doesn't want to call for help from the other Archons. He can deal with this himself. He can deal with Yda alone. Although, interrogation proves to more difficult than he thought. Yda is stubborn even then.

He drags his hand over his face in frustration. It had been hours and he had gotten no where — except to learn a bit too much about some of the locals. He's tried hurting her, bribing her, everything and she was surely going to eat him out of house and home.

"You cannot just pretend you aren't Garlean. I can see your third eye."

Yda tries to look up at her forehead. "It's a birthmark."

Papalymo stands and walks over to her, closing the distance between him and the chair she was tied to.

"What is the Empire planning? Are they going to try and attack Eorzea?"

She pops her neck, "Ala Mhigo is just the first step," there is a strange quiver in her voice. Papalymo picks up on it and takes her in. She is roughed up, bruised and there is dried blood under her nose and her split lip. It wasn't exactly easy to get her here. Papalymo doesn't look much better either. Luckily for him, Yda is not very good at dodging spells.

"Do you know how many people will die if they try to attack?"

Yda avoids his gaze. He hit something. She is not heartless.

"Do you even know what the Empire is capable of?" He pushes, still irritated.

"Of course I do!" She spits suddenly, jerking against her bindings. "Don't play that card, Lalafell. I know better than anyone what kind of horrors the Garlean Empire can unleash. Do _you_ know what it's like to live in fear your whole life? Anyone can just call 'treason' and it's all over for you!" She takes a deep breath and looks away. She has said too much. "I do what I have to survive."

"Is _your s_ urvival worth the death of hundreds?" Papalymo snaps.

Yda's shoulders start to shake and Papalymo realizes she is crying.

* * *

The thing about Yda is that she does, and always has, cared too much. Yda loves a lot. So much, in fact, that it's a problem. She wants to protect the weak; she wants to save the world. Even before the Scions of the Seventh Dawn were born, she was destined to be one. But destiny was cruel.

Yda never wanted to hurt anyone, that was why she enlisted, she wanted to help.

Yda, at first, was patriotic when it came to the Garlean Empire. It was all she knew. She enlisted into their military at a young age and she excelled in their combat programs. She was assigned to the Eorzean front as a spy. She was never high-ranking or even well known. She blended into the background and that is what made her a good spy.

However, it didn't take long for her to see the truth of what the Empire was, especially when she was allowed outside of their influence to see the difference. It was disheartening at first, overwhelming at times, and so Yda kept pushing herself to serve even when it made her stomach ache. She found peace in the ideals of the Twelve. It was part of her job to study the enemy but she found herself more absorbed with Eorzea as a whole — a potential home and a real one at that. She was naive at first, not understanding exactly what was in store for the collection of City-states. As it slowly dawned on her that her birthplace intended to invade forcefully, she got sloppy — purposely so.

She couldn't run from the truth forever but the idea that all she knew and fought for is wrong makes her sick. Yda is scared but she would find the answers she wanted and she would find something that _is_ worth fighting for.

* * *

Papalymo sees Yda for who she is. He always, always has. He has to leave her for a couple hours after seeing her cry. He doesn't know what to do and it drives him mad. He knows there is good in Yda but Yda is a Garlean. A pure-blood Garlean. He steps out, telling the shaken pugilist he would be back with food and leaves to clear his head. He slips into a back alley and places two fingers against his linkpearl. Reluctantly, he contacts Louisoix.

"She would be willing to help you stop the Garleans then?" He asks and even over linkpearl his voice is collected. It calms Papalymo's nerves.

"I believe so, master."

"I think you already know what to do, Papalymo."

"But... what after? We cannot just let her go free."

"She would make an excellent Archon."

" _What_? I mean — pardon me, master, but you cannot be serious? She is _Garlean_."

Papalymo can practically hear the smile in Louisoix's voice, "Test her then."

"Aye..." Papalymo grits his teeth.

Papalymo returns to Yda with a plate of tavern food from nearby. She didn't move from her chair but her hands are untied and she is simply siting in the chair examining her nails. Papalymo didn't know what he expected.

"You didn't leave?" He nods at the undone bindings.

Yda leans forward, eyeing the food in his hand, "Why would I ditch the man paying for my dinner? I'm not that rude." She winks but her eyes are swollen and red. He knows better. Papalymo wrinkles his nose but hands over the plate. Yda gobbles it down quickly and he really had no idea where she keeps it all when she has already ate pretty much everything else in his house. He shifts awkwardly.

"You...don't want to serve the Garleans, do you?" he asks suddenly. She looks up with a mouth full of food. She shrugs.

"What I want isn't really the same as what I have to do."

"Would you help stop them if you could? Help save Eorzea?"

She stops mid-chew as if in consideration but doesn't reply. Papalymo grows impatient.

"I am offering you a chance to start over. Will you take it or not?!" He snarls.

"Do I get one of those neat tattoos?"

* * *

Papalymo learns quickly that Yda is not as naive as acts. Yda has been studying Eorzea since she was young — he tries not to think of why because it makes his gut twist. Papalymo tries to explain the culture of Eorzea and of Ala Mhigo only to find Yda already knows. She ends up teaching him a thing or two about Rhalgr and he sees a passion in her eyes that never leaves. He meets a new Yda then and it would be the Yda he would grow and train with for years to come.

This Yda, although just as insufferable, is _happy_.

And that thought alone makes Papalymo smile.

Yda truly and utterly believes in the Twelve and she even goes through the ceremony to take Rhalgr as her Patron. The Ala Mhigans love Yda and they throw a huge party in her name. Yda wrestles half the city-state. And wins. She is violent, not unlike the Ala Mhigans and not unlike the Garleans, but she knows when to stand down. She gets bored easily and would rather solve a problem with her fists. Papalymo learns that humor is an escape for her and she can be serious — although she would rather not.

The two of them don't let on about what they know but they work harder. Yda was kept mostly in the dark about the actual plans of the Empire because of her low rank, but they hope that without the positions for airdrops, Ala Mhigo stands a chance. Papalymo helps strengthen the guard rotations and Yda helps with training. Papalymo hopes he never has to be on Yda's bad side again. Watching her work and seeing her for who she wants to be is refreshing and he catches himself staring.

In the weeks and months to come, Papalymo trusts Yda.

Yet, in the end, none of it mattered.

Louisoux knew something they didn't and perhaps he saw it in a vision or perhaps there was a prophecy about it. He calls for Yda's initiation and formal training. They are to come back to Sharlayan as soon as possible. Papalymo sits her down and tells her what is in store for them when they return to the Circle. He tells her about the other Archons and about Louisoux. He tells her everything like they told him. At first Yda is reluctant, not just because she doesn't want to leave Ala Mhigo _(it is her home now)_ but because she feels unworthy. She is Garlean and she does not trust herself. She tells Papalymo so.

Papalymo leans forward.

"This," he taps her third eye, "does not need to define you. But you have to choose to let go of the past." Papalymo offers her a hand — she takes it.

"Can we still be partners?" Yda asks.

He chuckles, "I will see what I can do."

* * *

They have done all they can for Ala Mhigo and they hope that is enough. Yda has give orders and trained their warriors. Papalymo has educated them as best he could on attack maneuvers and they both have given what little information they have about Garlean technology to the city-state leaders. They say they're goodbyes and they shoulder their bags. Yda and Papalymo leave Ala Mhigo behind. They both feel something is wrong but they cannot think about it.

In Sharlayan, Yda is welcomed warmly by the other Archons. It is a homecoming, yet it is a departure. There is no time for her to have as much formal training as the rest of the Archons but in the training she does get she surpasses quickly. When she is finally given her tattoo, she nearly cries. She finally feels like she is a part of something bigger — she is finally home.

When news arrives that Ala Mhigo has fallen, Yda and Papalymo are devastated and they both vow they will take it back. They make a promise to each other that night. But they know there is more to be done before.

There is always more to be done. Even now, tucked away in Little Ala Mhigo with no word from the other Scions or the Warrior of Light—there is more to be done. They shouldn't even be putting this much effort into it now. But Papalymo cannot bare to break his promise with Yda.

* * *

"We cannot stay here forever, Yda. We have other responsibilities."

"I know full well what my responsibilities are — and I mean to fulfill them, every one!"


End file.
